


the devil lives in the attic

by rumtumtugger



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Background Arkos, F/F, actual warning for mentions of abuse and internalized homophobia, also just an added heads up that bumbleby and white rose are both main ships!, as God intended, background renora, ghosts and shit, i love all my rwby girls equally, me earlier that day: i dont care for cinder., sun wukong is a good friend, there's also blacksun fair warning with a bumbleby endgame, this is the summer camp horror AU that literally nobody asked for, what am I even doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumtumtugger/pseuds/rumtumtugger
Summary: their very last summer at camp redwood is almost at its end, and the girls of cabin ruby only have so long to mend their broken bridges before they're pulled in different directions.it's too bad they might not get the chance. there is something in the woods that's going to complicate that, because misfortune always comes in threes.horror AU





	the devil lives in the attic

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i need to add a disclaimer that is not a summer camp slasher
> 
> anyways i thought we needed some more horror in the fandom
> 
> maybe the real ghosts were the gays who cried along the way

The clocks strike three at Camp Redwood, and Ruby wakes with a choked gasp in her throat.

She bolts up in her bed with her chest heaving, her palms damp with sweat that she ignores as she rubs her face. Her blood feels cold with phantom adrenaline - like she had just rubber-band snapped from the edge of a mountain’s precipice to the reality of her worn bedsheets in a single blink.

It’s not an unfamiliar sensation. Ruby’s nightmares generally end this way, with her trying to catch her breath in the middle of the night, all hair raised on her arms and her teeth threatening to chatter if they weren’t clenched tight. Her heart pounds unevenly in her chest and she presses a hand over it as if to muffle its rhythm.

She tries to remember what it was that woke her up, what it was that she might’ve seen when she’d looked over that precipice, but everything except the violating sensation of being stared at right through to her core remains elusive.

But something’s different about tonight. Instead of only her quiet, slow exhales breaking the summer silence, there’s also grumbling and shuffling from the three other bunks in her tiny cabin.

Ruby goes still. She hadn’t meant to be that loud.

“What was that?” comes a scratchy, sleepy mumble. It’s Blake from the bunk across and down from hers, her golden eyes reflecting a little bit of light in the darkness as she squints through it.

“Nothing!” Ruby whispers back, one hand on the wooden railing to her bed. “It’s nothing, sorry. I didn’t - I was being loud, wasn’t I?”

“What?” This time it’s Weiss, and Ruby knows almost more than anyone how cranky she gets when woken up, but she sounds more groggy and confused than immediately combative. “No, I - did something just break?”

Blake hums distantly. “I heard it too.”

“Break?” Ruby repeats, rubbing her eyes and blinking afterwards, trying to get adjusted to the darkness. She can feel her heartbeat start to slow in her chest. “I... Yeah, no. That wasn’t me. Never mind.”

Her bed shakes slightly in a familiar disturbance that means Weiss must be moving around underneath, and a moment afterwards, a bright light from her phone turns on and hits Blake directly in the face. Blake recoils back behind a blanket with her ears flat against her head and a knee-jerk hiss, “ _Weiss_!”

Weiss whispers back a quick apology and the flashlight gets aimed to the shelves instead, sweeping around quickly as if checking for anything out of place.

But everything looks just the same as they’ve left it. Each groove in the wooden walls, each streak of dust, each worn carving is familiar and accounted for. Their pinned polaroids wink back at them from their overcrowded corkboard. Stacks of Blake’s books fill the space on their shelves and on their writing desk beside Weiss’s neat, unused stationery and the sisters’ unfinished letters. All lay still, silent, and unassuming.

They’ve been assigned to this cabin every summer for almost the past decade, and each memory is imprinted into every chip in the faded wood. But something about the night, about the stillness itself and the long shadows, always makes their cabin seem distorted and alien.

There’s another creak of a bed.

“Hang on,” Yang mumbles, and Ruby can just barely make out her sister’s silhouette in the thin beams of moonlight that come in from the wooden shutters. She swings a leg over the edge of her bunk and her socked feet hit the ground with a thud a moment later. “Lemme turn a light on.”

“No, I’ve got it--” Blake sits up at the same time, her elbows behind her.

“It’s fine--”  
  
“Yang, I can see in the dark--”  
  
“I’m already up--”

Blake stills, half out of bed already, but the look she must be able to see on Yang’s face seems to stop her.

“It’s  _fine_ ,” Yang repeats again, and it’s tired but not unkind. Blake hesitates a moment before sitting back down, her knees tucked underneath herself, and Ruby can hear the shuffle of her sister moving across the floorboards.

Her one hand is held out to feel her way to the front door. Ruby can count her steps by the familiar creaks in the wood, each panel with a distinctive landmark for the trained ear. As children, they used to play their own version of Marco Polo stuck inside on rainy days, and the floor would always give them away.

The creaking ends after a moment as Yang reaches the wall, and she continues, “You don’t have always have to…” But she trails off before she can finish her thought. It’s silent for a moment. “Huh.” Her statement’s more of a confused sentiment than a question. “Light’s not working.”

Weiss’s flashlight moves to reveal Yang in familiar sleep shorts and a tank top, standing in front of the light switch and flipping it up and down. The bright light immediately casts a short and harsh shadow behind her, and Yang jerks her face away from the light with a wince, her tired eyes squeezing shut.

“Weiss, oh my god, you are _seriously_ about to blind someone--”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather stumble around in the--”

“Guys,” Ruby cuts them off before they can start bickering again. They never do so with real venom, at least not so far as Ruby can ever tell - Yang just loves pushing Weiss’s buttons and Weiss has so many buttons to do so. But if they start now, it might take ages for them to stop. “If the power’s out again, then I think we still have some candles in the drawers. We could light some if you want?”

“Ruby…” Yang starts, but Weiss beats her to it.

“I think the last thing we need is an open flame in a wooden cabin,” she points out sharply. “ _Thank_ you.”

Ruby thinks she can hear Blake murmur quietly, “Why do we even have candles?” but she doesn’t let either of them discourage her.

“Maybe we can call someone then?” she tries again with a shrug of her shoulders and a small smile. Both are invisible in the darkness, but they can hear it in her voice. “Like Coco or Sun.”

The two of them are both a year older, having graduated at the start of the previous summer and returned after their first year of college. They’ve assumed the dubious honor of becoming junior counselors, which means they get the thrill of bunking with the younger kids and answering midnight maintenance calls like this one.

“Don’t call Sun,” Blake groans, and Ruby’s pretty sure she can just make out her ears going flat against her head again. Both of them miss the look Yang gives her, part relieved and part hesitantly apprehensive. “We will _never_ get back to sleep if he comes over.”

“Yeah, we can just deal with it in the morning,” Yang says. She tries to flip the light a few more times uselessly before giving up with a small shrug like ‘what are you gonna do?’ Then, her arms raise in a stretch as she yawns. This time, both she and Ruby miss the look that Blake gives her in return at the movement - part conflicted and part pleased, but fully lingering. “Mmm, no use worrying right now.”

Agreement comes in faint murmurs, Weiss’s coming a few beats after the other two. She’s the one who used to resent being without a nightlight their first summer, and Ruby figures sympathetically that a blackout would be just the thing to make her uncomfortable.

She’d say something if she didn’t think that coming from her, it’d just make Weiss even more uncomfortable now.

“But if it makes you guys feel better,” Yang adds, the floorboards creaking underneath her feet again. “I bet I still know where our flashlights are. Everyone but Weiss is allowed to have one.”

“What-- _Hey_!”

Ruby’s heart thrums slowly and steadily. Despite her earlier reservations against it at this time of night, the sound of Yang and Weiss’s familiar banter and Blake’s quiet laughter soothes her, lulling the fading memory of her nightmare into the back of her mind. She giggles tiredly as she lays back down, and she picks her own cracked phone out from under the pillow behind her to check the time. 3:04AM.

Yang’s sudden yelp of pain cuts their laughter short.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ruby is back up again instantly, and she leans over her bed’s railing as Yang stumbles backwards with an exceptionally loud curse. There’s another thud as she falls back on her ass, right onto the floor.

“Fuck!” her sister repeats, and this time, Blake doesn’t hesitate before she’s out of bed and kneeling down next to her. Nobody complains now as Weiss shines her flashlight on them.

“Let me see,” Blake requests urgently, but Yang already has one of her legs crossed, a breath pushing out through her teeth sharply as she examines the speckles of blood dotting the bottom of her thin sock. Her thumb brushes against it and feels glass.

Blake glances up at Ruby and Weiss and warns, “Watch where you step!” Her ears are once again flat against her head, and she carefully brushes Yang’s hands aside to examine her herself with a gentle touch.

Ruby hears her, and then she swings her legs over the side and drops down anyways.

“Blake just told you to be careful!” Weiss’s voice is stern and clipped tight, but Ruby recognizes the guarded concern in it.

Ruby just waves a hand in her direction. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She bends down, mindful of where she is, and spies a bigger shard of curved glass tucked partially under Weiss’s bed. “I think our lightbulb might’ve popped…”  she mumbles, but when she reaches out to pick it up, she immediately draws back with a pained hiss and pops her fingertips into her mouth.

She misses the way Weiss’s expression changes at that too - but even if she did see it, it’d be inscrutable.  

“It’s hot,” Ruby offers as explanation, her eyebrows knitting together in the perfect picture of thoughtful bemusement. She pokes the glass one more time quickly just to check. “Yeah, definitely exploded.”

“I told you I heard something break,” Weiss reminds her, the ‘I told you so’ implicit as if Ruby had disbelieved her.

Yang just squints at the offending pieces of glass. Now that they’re actually looking closely at the ground, they can see a few more tinier pieces scattered around while the bigger shards had fallen underneath the bed at impact.

“Why the hell would it randomly-- _Ow, Blake_.”

“Hold still then.” Blake’s eyes are narrowed as she focuses on Yang, and though her words are admonishing, her tone and her touch are both painfully gentle. “It looks like most of it got caught in your sock.”

“Is that your official diagnosis, doc?” Yang’s smile is easy, but both of them are far too aware that this might be the closest they’ve been all summer.

Things haven’t been easy lately. For any of them.

Blake just smiles back after a moment’s hesitation, a warm lift to her lips, and she tells Yang, “Sure is. I think you just might make it.”

Ruby snaps her fingers with an exaggerated pout. “Aw, drats,” she pretends to complain, and a second later, she lets out an _oof_ after the pillow Yang snags from Blake’s bed hits her in the back of her head.

Blake just murmurs, “Hey, give that back,” without any regard for her safety. And of course, Ruby does so by flinging it back at Yang.

Before an all out pillow fight can break out, Weiss lets out an irritated breath, hugging her own pillow to her chest as she’s sat upright in bed with a furious pout. She’s probably trying to go for stern, and Weiss is normally very good at stern - but Ruby looks over her shoulder at her, and all she can see is their winter breaks and surprise weekend visits, Weiss curled up out of place and yet so at home in her superhero-patterned bedsheets, her face screwed up into that same look as she grumbles half-asleep for Ruby to leave the closet light on.

Ruby finds herself smiling for a moment without even realizing it. Something - everything - about the recollection makes her chest feel warm, almost too warm.

But Weiss doesn’t visit anymore, and she knows now that feeling in her chest is too warm for the Snow Queen, and that’s what makes her look back away.

“Is anyone else wondering why our light bulb is shattering into a million pieces in the middle of the night anyways?” Weiss asks as if the question should be obvious, hugging her pillow tighter. And it is obvious, but the camp is old - incredibly old - and old things break.

Ruby just shrugs one shoulder in response, before reaching under the bed to gather up the other few large shards with her open palm held out carefully. “It’s in, like, nine pieces,” she corrects absently, and then she glances over at Yang’s foot where Blake is carefully removing her sock, tiny bits of glass embedded in the fabric but thankfully not the skin. “Or...okay, maybe fourteen.”

“It’s ghosts, obviously,” Yang helpfully volunteers. She holds her hand out to Weiss and then waves both it and her other upper arm around with a very spooky, “Ooooooh!”

It’s the joke answer they’ve had for years whenever anything goes wrong. The mess hall is out of lemonade? The ghosts drank it all. The vending machine nobody's supposed to know about in the office is busted? A ghost got its arm stuck up there trying to get a pretzel bag. Cabin Juniper got teepeed in the middle of the night? Definitely ghosts, without a doubt, and they should think about what they did to annoy them to avoid it happening in the future.  

Weiss just scoffs at Yang’s answer and rolls her eyes, but in her peripheral vision, Ruby can see her posture relax just marginally. The tension fades from the room like it’s Yang’s magic power, and suddenly, the shadows don’t look quite so long.

“You are _so_ annoying,” Weiss sasses right back. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

It’s a trick question, because Weiss tells her that at least three times a week.

With Blake’s help and an old broom shoved into the back of their closet, they get the rest of the floor cleaned up in record time so that there are no unfortunate accidents waiting to happen in the morning. Yang slaps a band-aid onto her heel before she calls it a night, and within a few minutes of climbing back into her bed, she’s rumbling with light snores like nothing had happened.

Ruby has a much harder time falling back asleep.

Her nightmare is still in the back of her mind, though even the faintest details have escaped her now. All she can remember is the feeling she had when she woke up - watched, examined, every part of her scraped unwillingly from her bones and laid bare. It’s unnerving to say the least, but Ruby does her best to drift off in spite of it.

As children, they used to play their own version of Marco Polo stuck inside on rainy days. The floor would always give them away.

The floor creaks.

Ruby’s eyes open. Her breathing is even and unalarmed, her movements slow as she rolls over a half-minute later when the floor creaks again. “Blake? Weiss?” she whispers into the dark, her hands tucked underneath her cheek. “Can you get me my water bottle while you’re up? I think I left it on the dresser.”

There’s no response, not even an a murmured affirmative. Ruby’s eyebrows knit together as the silence stretches forward. After a few moments, she rolls back over to grasp her phone again and turns the flash light on.

The floor is empty. Blake is a lump underneath her blankets and Yang’s snores are still breathy and quiet from her bunk. Her own bed wobbles slightly as Weiss turns over, and a second later, she hears her scratchy voice mumble, “Ruby, turn the light off.”

Ruby hesitates, her hand bobbing unsurely in place before she exhales deeply and it stills. And then she nods though nobody can see her.

“Yeah, sorry.”

The light clicks off.

 

\---

 

They recount the story the next morning over pancakes and frosted flakes. Yang puts her own spin on it naturally, playing up the tension and drama like she’s reading it straight from the pages of a story book, a narrator in her own right after so many years spent perfecting different voices for Ruby’s fairy tales.

The impersonation she does of Weiss gets her a protest in a shrill tone. Yang responds by simply making her pitch even higher.

Nora leans in the entire time, her mouth hanging open and her elbows on the table, though her cabin mates look more concerned than anything else.

“That sounds...strange,” Pyrrha tests, one finger tapping against her chin as if contemplating her own chances of having glass rain down upon her head while she sleeps. It doesn’t sound very restful, that’s for sure. “Have you spoken to Director Ozpin about it?”

“He just told us to be more careful,” Blake answers with a half shrug, sipping tea out of a styrofoam cup with more grace than it deserves. “It doesn’t really matter. I think he’s sending someone to change it today.”

“I see,” Pyrrha says with a nod. Her fork scrapes against her plate. And then she clears her throat lightly before tentatively maneuvering gears, her voice gentle as she asks, “And Ruby, are you feeling alright today?”

Ruby startles. Her elbow nearly slips off the table and her eyebrows shoot up, her unfocused eyes snapping back to the expectant table from the space she’d been staring into. With a sheepish giggle, she manages a tired yet cheeky grin for Pyrrha. “Oh, yeah! Just...feelin’ a little sleepy is all. All that excitement, you know?”

Yang rests her chin on her hand as she casts a sideways glance at her sister and the darkening circles underneath her eyes, but she doesn’t comment - not in front of everyone, at least - and neither does anyone else.

Pyrrha accepts the answer with a polite smile, and by the time the first activities of the day begin, it’s for the most part slipped into the back of their minds.

 

\--

 

There’s nothing like the raucous laughter of a dozen or so middle schoolers fighting over cheap pony beads to bring back fond memories - and believe it or not, Blake means that honestly.

A gentle smile curves her lips as she watches the three cabins put the last of their finishing touches on their projects, all of them shaded from the August heat by a mud-stained off-white canopy that had seen its better days long before Blake had ever stepped foot under it. The kids all hold some kind of threaded bead monstrosity that they’re each putting their own individual finishing touches on, though what exactly they’re supposed to be, Blake has no hope of figuring out.

The arts and crafts pavillion holds some of her fondest memories, and today, it holds something else.

Blake’s eyes are on the sun-kissed junior counselor as he flits from table to table, his tail swishing happily behind him as he makes sure to compliment each camper on even the most bizarre looking creations. He does so without a single hint of dishonesty, and each of the kids seems to brighten up and preen with the praise. Even the shyest looking of the group - a young rat Faunus with a thin, pink tail - leans over to whisper a thank you in his ear, and Blake watches him lean over to whisper one back.

The kids finally depart a few minutes past the hour. They laugh madly as they skip and chase each other, and Sun makes sure to get each and every one of them for a hi-five on the way out. It’s only when the last camper disappears down the trail that Blake rises from where she’d been sitting on an smooth tree stump, one leg crossed over another and her elbows on her knee.

Sun has his back turned to her as he hums to himself and finishes putting the last of the arts supplies back into its proper places. It takes a couple moments for him to notice her standing there, but he finally does glance over his shoulder, and when he does, he does a beaming doubletake.

“Blake!” he says with delighted surprise as if they didn’t have plans. Then, the toothy grin that splits his face every time he sees her slides off quickly as he reaches up to grab his cheeks.

Blake’s lips twitch as she tries not to smirk. She can string him along for at least a few moments more.

“Oh, _shit_. Breakfast. Breakfast! I completely forgot, didn’t I?”

It's true, but this is exactly where she’d figured he’d be, and she hadn’t exactly been lacking for company anyways. She catches his hand when he tries to check his watch and clicks her tongue, intertwining their fingers at their side with a tilt of her head.

“You did,” she teases, her ears twitching. “But I guess I can make an exception for the kids. They looked like they were having too much fun for me to run off with you.”

She’s...flirting with him, and even after three months of tentative dating, she surprises even herself. But though Blake’s smile is small and shy, it’s also warm - it has the same gentle energy as the first glimpse of sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds, special and just for him.

Well. Not just for him.

“I’m still sorry,” he says honestly, his shoulders drooping. “I came here first thing to set up, and I guess I _totally_ lost track of time.”

Blake just shakes her head and repeats patiently, “It’s fine.” Though she wonders absently if perhaps she should be more upset about him not following through.

Sun chuckles pleasingly at that and rubs the back of his neck, and his long tail flicks behind him as he snatches something from the table with it before dropping it into his hands.

“Look,” he says proudly, perking back up again and holding up his own threaded bead craft that he dangles from an attached keychain. This one is actually recognizable as a little lizard, complete with a small tongue that pokes out of its face in the form of a single red bead. “They’re sending them home to their parents this week.”

Blake thinks of all the crafts sitting proudly on display in her own father’s office. He always insists that they’re fantastic conversation starters among his colleagues - perhaps to make her feel better about their misshapen quality.

But of course, that was only because he had no way to know it was because Yang had in turn always insisted camp crafts were supposed to be as bizarre as possible. Life was too short to have a fistful of dry macaroni and a fistful of glitter and not go absolutely wild, according to her.

In contrast, this little lizard looks like it came straight out of a pinterest post. It’s surprising in a way, since it’s _Sun_. But she knows how seriously he’s been trying to take his new responsibility - it makes sense that he’d want to do his best this time.

“I like it,” Blake tells him honestly, and she pokes at a part near the tail where the beads are jumbled up - a charming imperfection. “Especially this part.”

“It’s yours,” Sun says easily in return. He presses the little keychain into Blake’s palm as her gaze moves between it to his, a dark eyebrow arching in flattered confusion, and he elaborates, “Well, I was just thinking of you while I made it, so… I don’t know! Maybe it can be your good luck charm?”

“I...don’t think that’s how luck works, Sun,” Blake comments carefully, her lips twitching in endeared amusement, but she can’t deny that it feels nice to know that he was thinking about her. He’s a good friend - and a good boyfriend, she almost forgets to add on. “But thank you. That’s really sweet.”

While he watches, she clips it onto the keychain that’s already attached to her belt by a carabiner clip - it’s an old purple and yellow lanyard, part of a matching set that she and Yang had made for each other when they were 14, and the lizard charm finds its home next to her keys. It makes the entire thing feel a little bulky, but...Sun is grinning at her in delight, and she truly does like it.

“You’re welcome! Anything for my best girl, right?”

He leans in for a hug at the same time she leans in for a kiss. They awkwardly bump against each other before trying one more time with murmured apologies only for the same result when they both switch to accommodate the other.

“You should--” Blake says, taking a faltering half step back. Her ears are twitching as she crosses her arms over herself, and she’s just eager to just get the moment over with, the easiness of their banter dissipating with an awkward laugh. Sun’s one of her best friends, but...he doesn’t come easy. Dating doesn’t come easy, even if she knows this is a massive step for her.

“Right, finishing up!” Sun stands with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face, thankfully picking up on what she has to say. It’s one of the things she likes about him. He never looks at her in disappointment even when she thinks he must be feeling it. “And then...talent show set-up! Oh, you’re fine with waiting just a minute, right?”

Blake nods as she settles back onto one of the old picnic tables, watching him bustle around as he cleans up the last few. None of them really look clean at all - there’s paint stains on the wood that seem to be older than time itself if she had to take a wild guess, but it’s a different type of a mess, a type that’s as much part of the camp now as anything else.

Then, something catches Blake’s eye about the table she’s sitting at.

She leans in a little closer to take a look, before reaching out to rub her thumb over the smooth, worn carving of some kind of symbol. It’s not really reminiscent of anything she’s ever seen before, and that includes the usual brand of graffiti that lingers around camp. The lines look like they’re too neat, too deliberate to be a simple childish scrawl anyways. And even more intriguing, there’s a small ‘XL’ etched underneath it.

“Do you know what this is?” she asks Sun curiously, glancing up at him where he’s still tidying up. He looks over his shoulder as well, and he takes note of the symbol she’d idly tracing with a fingertip though doesn’t seem to give it much thought.

“Oh, that?” he says as he slides over to a different table to wipe it down. The glitter still remains in every spot he moves past. “I dunno, didn’t Yang do that a couple weeks ago?”

Yang’s a lot of things, but she’s not generally a vandal, and this doesn’t seem like the type of thing she’d carve into a table even if she was. But Blake just shrugs, pulling her hand back and sticking it into the pocket of her light jacket.

XL. Xiao Long, she supposes idly, even if she knows that’s not right. “Mm, maybe.”

It’s not like she would know.

 

\---

 

“Do you, uh, need a hand?”

Yang sets the cardboard box down carefully as she glances up, before standing and wiping at her brow with her upper arm. She doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before Jaune blanches, waving both of his hands frantically in defense like he’d just committed some sort of crime and looking strangely a little more nervous than usual.

“Not that-- I mean, I wasn’t-- It’s just a saying, I was just saying that--”

All she does is grin faintly at him, already having heard every single arm joke under the sun. Her dad had made at least half of them while she was home for the summer last year recovering, and she’d probably made the other half since then.

Silver linings were complicated, and she wasn’t sure how she felt dwelling on them. But hey, at least losing an arm opened up an entire world of arm-related humor for her to explore, right?

“It’s cool, dude,” she assures him, before she bends down to carefully pick up another box off the office’s floor. It takes a little maneuvering to get her hand under it, but she stacks it on top of the rest with no sweat.

In one little unused corner of the main office - of which there are few, considering how fast clutter accumulates here - there are cardboard boxes and plastic tubs filled to the brim with props, costumes, and probably enough glitter to sink a boat. It’s everything that anyone would need to put on a theatrical performance wild enough for the annual talent show that’s coming up in a week, and Yang’s making sure everything is ready for the campers to descend on it as a favor to Ozpin.

Jaune just laughs a little awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he says with a tired exhale. “Uh, anyways, did you need help? Or anything?” He points over his shoulder with his thumb where Goodwitch is sitting at the front desk, flicking through some paperwork. She’s either too focused on her task to notice them or doing a very good job at pretending she is. “I’m supposed to be on office duty, but...I think I ran out of things I’m allowed to touch.”

Normally, Yang would say no, but in all honesty, she kind of feels bad for the guy. He’s only been here for a handful of summers compared to their much longer tenures, and already he’s managed to embarrass himself in front of just about everyone.

It feels more like a favor to him than herself when she nods and tells him, “By all means,” with a wave to the half dozen other cardboard boxes she needs to move. The relieved smile he gives her only backs that up.

They make quick work of the rest working together, and it goes smoothly until Jaune tries to stack one too many on top of each other. Yang reaches her hand out with a ‘wait’ on the tip of her tongue, but she’s too late. He bumps the tower with his shoulder as he leans down and the highest box pitches forward. It lands on the ground with a loud clatter, spilling tulle, silk, and all kinds of frilly bullshit over the ground - and sending Jaune about three feet above it with a yelp.

A chair scrapes behind them as Goodwitch rises from it. Even Yang thinks they’re about to get it, but she just casts a sideways glance at the two of them and disappears into the back hallway.

Jaune lets out a sigh. Yang silently agrees.

“I-- Thanks,” he says with an awkward laugh as they kneel down on the floor together to start cleaning it back up. He keeps his gaze locked low, avoiding her curious eyes as if this is the first time she’d seen him fumble something. However, every now and then, she notices him glance up to the ceiling.  

“It’s fine,” Yang says, though the question lingers in her voice. When he doesn’t offer anything himself, she decides to ask it. “You alright? You’re even jumpier than usual.” And jumpy for Jaune is usual a whole level unto itself.

Yang sees him hesitate for a second before he looks at her, his eyebrows knit together. “Has this place ever...flooded or something?” he asks hesitantly, his head tilting.

That’s about the last thing she expects to hear from him, and she just blinks.

“Dude, what.”

“I don’t know! I’ve just been hearing a bunch of clanking noises from the pipes in the ceiling all day and they’re freaking me out!” Jaune gives up and sits back on his knees, clasping his hands behind his neck as he lets out a troubled sigh.

Yang’s caught between trying not to laugh and asking once more with feeling: ‘dude, _what_.’ As it is, she at least tries for the former, though she clears her throat as she does so.

“I dunno,” she says honestly with a shrug of one shoulder, even as she tries to look bemusedly encouraging as well. “This place is, like, a hundred years old or something. It was falling apart when my _dad_ went to camp. It’s probably flooded a couple of times, yeah. Buuut I promise if it does today, I’ll come fish you out.”

She accompanies her vow with a playful wink, but Jaune still looks more unnerved than cheered up.

With a faint sigh, Yang adds, “Besides, pretty sure most of the pipes run through the wall. Only thing above us is the attic. You probably just heard Ozpin walking around.” She points with her thumb behind her shoulder to the back wall. “His house is on other side, remember?”

Jaune nods, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced to her. Yang drops the last of the fabrics back into the tub and tries hard not to raise her eyebrows. Of all the things someone’s worried about these days, it’s the integrity of the Big House’s plumbing. Oh my god.

“I just, I mean-- It was definitely above us,” Jaune insists. “There’s been these noises _all day._ ”

“I promise it wasn’t,” Yang assures him without a sweat. And her shoulders drop as she sighs after that. “Look. Hold on.”

She gets up, before grabbing the chair from the front desk - after glancing down the hallway to make sure Goodwitch isn’t on her way back - and rolls it over to a corner. She climbs on top of it without hesitation and reaches up to run her fingers over the low hanging ceiling, looking for the right angle, and - there it is! The latch catches on her hand and she gives it a mighty tug, but the door only descends about an inch before catching on some kind of padlock inside.

“ _Attic_ ,” she says meaningfully, and he’s heard _of_ it but he’s never actually seen where it is. “Nothing up there but a...I dunno, a hoard of raccoons or something.” Now that’s more frightening of a thought than whatever water damage nightmare is flashing through his brain. “Trust me, this thing is never open. We used to try and sneak into it all the time.”

Jaune, who has probably never stepped a toe out of his line in his life to the best of her knowledge, looks surprised at that. “You were trying to-- Why would you do _that_?”

Yang just shrugs as she steps heavily off the chair, ruffling his hair on the way down. “Because they told us not to,” she says. “We were, like, twelve. We would’ve climbed into an open oven if Ozpin made a big deal out of that too.” And he had made a big deal out of it. The first and only time he’d caught her being hoisted up by Ren to reach the ceiling with a screwdriver was about the first and only time she’d ever seen him angry too. “Who knows? Maybe we just really wanted asbestos exposure back then or something.”

Now that brings a laugh out of Jaune, and Yang counts that with a slight smirk as a mission successful.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he says, and Yang notes that he looks much more at ease than she’d seen him when he’d come in. “That checks out. But, uh… You know, just while we’re on the topic, not that I think it’s true or anything, but...you’ve heard the stories, right?”

Yang snorts, leaning her elbow on one of the plastic tub stacks. “What, you mean the ones they use to scare little kids at the bonfires? Jaune, dude, I promise - we’re not gonna float away and we’re not gonna get carried off by little ghosties up in there either. The only thing that scares me about the attic probably how much of a pack rat Ozpin is. He doesn’t get rid of anything ever.”

To prove her point, she pops open the lid to the tub she’s leaning on, and right on top is a feather boa that she wraps around her neck with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Because I’m pretty sure I wore this for a week when I was 10.”

Jaune laughs and rubs the back of his neck, and he still looks vaguely nervous, but at least he no longer glances up to the ceiling. “Okay, yeah. I guess… Yeah, it was probably just Ozpin I heard walking around. Or...who knows. Racoons, am I right?”

 

\--

 

Sleepaway camp certainly finds a unique charm in its organized disorganization, one that she’s admittedly grown fond of over the years - even if she’s also grown exasperated in equal measure. However, Weiss thinks someone must not realize how much planning an entire production requires an attention to fine detail or else they would’ve enlisted her help years ago.

“It’s like nobody has ever seen a semi-circle before,” she stresses to Ruby as she re-arranges the chairs directly in front of the stage. They’re set up so that the parents attending can sit here, while the other campers are relegated to the stacks of rain-stained and sandy wooden bleachers at the back.

Ruby just bobs her head in a vague nod from where she’s helping her at a more relaxed pace.

“Weiss, we do this every year,” she reminds her as if she’s forgotten. “I think the chairs are going to be okay.”

Weiss just rolls her eyes and breathes deeply, though she doesn’t comment. She’s well aware that she’s taking talent show set-up perhaps more seriously than it should require, but...she wants this one to be perfect.

When the seating is finally arranged to her liking, Ruby plops down into one of them before she has a chance to address the next item on their to-do list. Weiss hesitates, hovering behind her. She doesn’t necessarily need Ruby’s help for anything, and if she wants to take a break then she knows she’s more than welcome to continue by herself, but...there’s an implicit invitation there to join her too.

A year ago, Weiss wouldn’t have needed to hesitate before taking it.

She sits down next to her much more carefully, and together, they watch the other campers and coordinators bustle around the outdoor arena, all of them hard at work to set the stage for the upcoming event.

In the near distance, she spots Nora filling up water balloons from the volunteer cooler, but Weiss bites back any admonishment with a distracted frown.  

...Well, most of them are hard at work.

“Can you believe it’s going to be our last show?” Ruby mentions as she leans back and crosses her legs underneath her on the chair. There’s a wistful quality to her tone that Weiss isn’t sure what to do with.

Out of the corner of her eye, she also notices her start to fiddle with the worn rope bracelet around her wrist. It’s the very same bracelet that matches the one shoved forgotten at the bottom of one of Weiss’s many duffel bags arranged underneath her bed.

Weiss doesn’t answer for about half a beat too long.

“It’s not your last show, Ruby,” she reminds her. “You’re only 16. You’re perfectly welcome to attend next year and you know that.”

Ruby just shrugs, and when Weiss finally casts a glance in her direction, she’s looking down into her lap.

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same without you guys,” she tells her.

And as she does, the pair watch Coco walk by with a clipboard in her hands, pointing with two fingers to the boxes and tubs of costumes and props that had been brought over from the Big House. Yatsu and Fox who follow behind her both nod at her direction and start unpacking.

Weiss knows she should be able to roll her eyes and remind Ruby that that’s simply going to be her next year with her own clipboard - and yes, she is looking forward to that part specifically. Just because they won’t be bunking together anymore when she, Blake, and Yang are counselors doesn’t mean they won’t see each other. It’s what they’ve always planned as kids, after all.

She knows she should be able to say that. But she can’t.

Instead, she says, “I’m sure you can get used to it.” It’s meant to be comforting instead of, well, perhaps belittling, but she doesn’t think she’s very good at comfort. Her words are accompanied by an approximation of a smile - a poorly managed one at that - and it takes a moment before Ruby manages one back at her.

“Yeah,” she says, and Weiss doesn’t even need to know Ruby as well as she does to figure out that she means it hollowly.

The truth is that Weiss would like nothing more than to join her next year. Camp Redwood is quite possibly the only place she’s ever felt really at home, and she knows that it has far more to do with the people here than the actual grounds.

What had begun years ago as a way for her mother to manage summer visitation with as little actual parenting as possible had turned into the part of the year she looked forward to most of all. Camp is-- was a welcome break in the stressing monotony of her life at her father’s estate. She’s no stranger to being lonely, not in any sense, but her summers here have somehow found a way to make her feel...less so.

But no matter how much she might wish to, she just doesn’t have the _option_ of trading charity galas and business dinners for talent shows and friendship bracelets. Not in the long-term, not by any means. Everyone needs to grow up eventually.

Perhaps selfishly, perhaps just in frustration, she wishes Ruby understood that.

Weiss glances over to her, the silence lingering uncomfortably in the cracks of the wall that stretches between them, and she sees a faraway look in silver eyes as Ruby picks at one of her shoe laces. For a second, she wants to reach out, to ask what’s wrong and perhaps even fix it if she’s able to. Her lips part to do so, but her words catch in her throat, stalled by indecision and hesitation.

Once again, she reminds herself that trying to bridge the gap that’s grown between them would just be cruel at this point. At its worst, it would even be dangerous.

So Weiss just purses her lips before standing up, absently brushing down her pants. The smart thing to do would say a simple ‘see you later’ and get back to work. If Ruby wanted to laze around, then that was her prerogative, and there’s no need for Weiss to enable her - or she she tells herself.

But...she hesitates. And she lingers. And finally, after a bout of awkward shuffling as she wavers between staying and going, she holds out an expectant hand for Ruby and gestures impatiently for her to take it.

It’s such a small gesture that she only feels slightly guilting allowing it of herself, but Ruby looks up at her with a smile that’s downright painful as if she’s peeking at the sun.

“Come on,” Weiss says, and she rolls her eyes because she knows Ruby likes it. Or rather, she knows Ruby likes being the exception to her chilly demeanor. “You’ve...been working hard, I _suppose_ , and I think there’s still some icees left by the cooler.”

Ruby’s delighted laughter makes her chest feel warm, almost too warm, but she thinks there might be such thing as not warm enough when it comes to her.

And for a second, she almost forgets to feel sick about it.

Almost.

 

\--

 

The clocks strike three at Camp Redwood, and Ruby wakes with a choked gasp in her throat.

This time, there’s no shuffling from the other bunks, no sleepy voices or tinkling of shattered glass. Ruby lays flat on her back as she breathes deeply and sharply, staring up at the ceiling and trying to count to the tune of the thundering beat of her heart. Her hair is plastered to her forehead, and she exhales just as deeply when she reaches up with clammy hands to cover her face.

Quietly, she let out a groan, long and low.

Her nightmares have only been getting worse, and the uncomfortable sensation of being watched only grows with it. The exhaustion feels like it’s seeped sickly into her bones where it’s begun to fester until her body aches.

She knows some of her friends have begun to notice too - but she’s not sure how to help herself, never mind figure out how to put into words to allow her friends to help her. Not when they all have their own issues to deal with, and especially not when the last weeks of summer are slipping quickly through their grasp.

Another sigh, and this time, Ruby rolls over onto her side to face the window covered by old wooden shutters. One of them is half open and it sways lightly in the summer breeze. Her eyes grow unfocused slightly as she stares at it without really looking, her sluggish mind wavering between dreams and reality as she tries to decide whether it’s worth it to go back to sleep.

Normally, camp is dark at this time of night. It’s always been this way and Ruby doesn’t really question it. The tall lamplights turn on at 7PM, and by 1AM, they’re off again. People tell stories around the bonfires and under blankets from their bunks about how it’s done this way to draw the least amount of attention to the camp.

There are a dozen and a half different versions of creatures and monsters and hook-handed men who live in the thick forest that surrounds them. Every camp comes with their own urban legends, and Yang spent just as much time when they were kids scaring the others with those stories as she did reassuring Ruby that they were just that - tall tales.

The habit is still strange, but then again, so are a lot of the things Ozpin does.

Tonight, however, Ruby notices something different. Her eyes catch on a bobbing white light a ways outside her window, sinking up and down in time with her heart.

At first, she thinks it must be one of the counselors making the rounds with a flashlight, checking on any disturbances to make sure they’re not campers snuck out of bed, and most of the time, they usually are. But the light doesn’t move any closer or farther away after a minute.

Ruby squints her eyes as she leans in, half sitting up. And carefully, she pushes the shutters open to take a better look. Her ears strain curiously for the crunch of footsteps on the dirt and gravel pathways, but the only things she hears are crickets and cicadas and her own shallow breathing.

The Big House stands solitary atop the hill that overlooks their circle of cabins. In darkness, it’s tall and oppressive, idling and contemplative. The faint shadow from the moonlight is cast widely over them, and just as her own cabin seems unrecognizable in the night, its corners as well look too sharp and its walls too wide.

And in the window to the attic, there’s a bobbing white light, sinking up and down in time with her heart.

Ruby’s head tilts as she stares at it, prickling with uncertainty on the back of her neck and a sensation she can’t quite name. It’s mesmerizing in a puzzling way, like how you’d linger on a smile with too many teeth or a house with no doors. It continues to move up and down, but never back and forth, never side to side, almost like it’s trying to get her attention.

Curiously, without even really thinking it through, Ruby raises her hand and gives it a jerky wave.

The light stills.

Ruby lowers her hand. Her throat bobs uncomfortably, and she can’t help but get the feeling that she’s made some kind of mistake. Like her nightmares, she feels exposed, the hair raising on her arms as she’s locked in a tentative staring contest with it, unsure of what it’ll do if she looks away first - as if it could traverse the entire distance to her cabin window in just the span of a blink should she risk it.

It’s just Ozpin, she tells herself. It’s just Ozpin walking around. Don’t be weird about it.

A slow breath escapes her, and Ruby reaches out carefully for the shutter to close it. Exhaustion is just making her jumpy, isn’t it? But even as she reasons so, she keeps her eyes trained on the light, swearing that it’s only in her mind she feels it looking back.

Her window closes again. Ruby lets out a tired and forced laugh as she lays back in bed. She feels like she did after their last scary movie night, clinging to Weiss’s clammy hand on the walk back to the cabin and jumping at every noise in the bushes. All she is is more tired than she thought.

That’s all.

She closes her eyes, takes deep breaths, and refuses to look again even to sate her curiosity.

The light clicks off.

  
  



End file.
